The 40th Hunger Games
by Lily Joanne Potter
Summary: Mina Calo has had a troubled past, but through all her struggles she's managed to keep what's dearest to her: her brother. But after the 40th Reaping, everything she has left is threatened.


**PART 1: THE TRIBUTES**

Chapter 1

The Reaping comes around, as usual. Everyone fears for their children, as usual. But in many Districts children didn't have family, not anymore, and these ones were left to fight on their own. Take me for example; my mother died giving birth, and Father was killed, taking my younger sister with him. All I had left was this crumbling building, teeming with officials that would go to great lengths just to beat another child to the brink of death, and my brother.

I sit up from the moth-ridden bed. The Peacekeeper is looming over me, with a grin as sick as you can imagine spread wide across his face. "Wake up, pet, bath time." When I didn't respond, he throws the back of his hand to my cheek, giving me no choice but to give some sort of acknowledgement.

The other girls in the dorm are already up, waiting in line for the one of only two baths in the Community Home – they call it a home, but it's not homely. We don't get to change the dirty water, and we don't get the bath to ourselves – it sits at the front of the girls' dorm (and at the other at the front of the boys' dorm), guarded by two Peacekeepers. Each girl gets three minutes in the bath, and three girls share the bath at once. Usually it's one bath a month, but every Reaping we get an extra. Not that it helps.

"Mina," I hear my name being called, and I spot Gem stood at the back of the queue. She beckons me over. Compared to me, Gem is the complete opposite in looks. Her gleaming dark hair against my dull blonde, and her green eyes contrasting with my grey. I was plain and boring, and I'm sure if you polished her up a little, Gem would look stunning.

The Peacekeeper stood by gives us a warning glare. In line, we must stay quiet, only speaking in hushed voices. Gem's outburst would normally result in punishment, but this Peacekeeper was one of the nicer ones. No-one knew their names, but this one only punished if truly necessary, which was rare. He didn't throw beatings around like the others, as if they had plenty to spare, and a lot of the time he'd give out larger food portions to the skinnier kids.

I mutter an apology to the Peacekeeper, and Gem ducks her head in embarrassment. "Gem, I was about to come in line. What if it was another Keeper?" I hiss, and shuffle forward as the queue moves along.

"It wasn't though. And anyway, what have we got to lose?" She replies, and continues in a low whisper, "For all we know we could be heading for the Capitol in two hours' time."

I shake my head at her. "Our names are only in 6 times. The chances…"

Gem mimics me, and pulls daft face to finish my sentence "…are so slim, I know Mina – We've been over it a thousand times. But it isn't impossible that we'll not get picked."

The line shifts forward again, and I shoot a frown at Gem. Why are we moving so quickly? "What's with the speedy line movement?" I change the subject. Talking about the Games leaves a pit inside my stomach, and that is not something I want to feel on the day of the Reaping.

"Oh, we're running late." Gem shrugs. "So we're getting a face wash and that's it. No doubt we'll just end up with pimples from the dirty water." She rolls her eyes directly under the nose of another Peacekeeper – Gem has the nerve to do that sort of thing, seeing as she's already so blunt and to the point.

The people in front of us move. "D'you think we'll get a new rag for the Reaping this year?" Gem asks. Once every 2 years, the Community Home gets a cargo of hand-me-down clothes. They're nothing fancy, but they are only dealt out on the morning of the Reaping so they aren't ruined.

"No." I answer. This past year, funding has been even tighter. It's easy to tell by the food portion size and reduced number of filled beds, so it's unlikely that we'll get new clothes, even if we are due them.

For a few minutes, we stand in silence, only making noise with our feet as we step forward. As we get closer to the front, a racket begins, and Gem's eyes narrow. I follow her gaze to the wash basin, where a girl is stood shivering.

She looks no older than 12, and she's sobbing uncontrollably. The Peacekeeper next to her whacks her across the head, knocking her off her feet and onto the floor. I don't understand what's going on, until Gem steps out of the line and shouts "Stop it! Can't you see she's frightened? It's her first Reaping, of course she's going to cry!"

Slowly, the Peacekeeper turns his stare to Gem, and I know she's gone too far. But Gem hadn't finished her mighty outburst. "And I swear to God, kid," She says, talking to the little girl, "I won't let 'em hurt you for doing what's natural."

"Oh, really?" The Peacekeeper smirks, already scheming. "Then you can take her punishment. As well as your own." He nods towards the other Keeper, and they head for Gem.

She puts up a fight, struggling and writhing, but they manage to grab both her arms, pulling her along. "What have I to lose, Mina? See you at the Reaping!" Gem calls to me, almost looking pleased with herself.

With Gem out of the way, the little girl is pulled up by her hair, and moved along. What was it that caused Gem to act in such a way? We've never talked to her before, or had anything to do with her for that matter. I shake my head at the thought of it. Gem can be so unpredictable; I don't understand her at times. I'm worried for her constantly, or maybe that's worried about what she'll do next. But she has guts, and does things I'd never be brave enough to even consider. Sometimes I even wonder if Gem is from District 1 or 2, and got lost on her way home, left to the claws of the Community Home. It almost seems plausible – she even has the name for it.

It's my turn for the face wash, seeing as the little girl's and Gem's turn was skipped. I look distastefully at the basin. There's a grubby half-bar of soap left, and there is foam and dirt skimming the water at the rim. But I plunge my hands in, splashing up the water to get it over and done with. I don't see why I should bother with the soap, as I'm too eager to leave and it wouldn't make much difference anyway. Without wiping my face with the offered rag, I head downstairs to the food hall, and, hopefully, find my brother before the Reaping.

My brother, Heath, is also my twin. The only two differences being he's at least a head taller and our gender. Our personalities are one. Heath is all I have left now, and at the age of 17 our chances of being Reaped are higher. It's given us many silences over meals when we got to the subject, so we'd never really considered what we'd do without each other. It just didn't feel right, or possible that we'd ever be separated. But now, on our second to last Reaping, things are a lot tenser. Two more years until we can stop worrying about being chosen at the Reaping. Two more years, and we are no longer obliged to live in the Community Home. Two more years until freedom.

In the food hall, I grab a bowl of what is supposed to be porridge, and scan the tables for Heath. But there's no sign of him. Rather than sit with a crowd, I sit alone in the corner. Normally with Gem or Heath for company, I don't look like a loner. But now I look vulnerable, and looking it makes me feel like it. Uncomfortably, I eat away at my slop, trying hardest not to make eye contact with anyone else, but still keeping an eye out for Heath.

With nothing to distract me, I can't help but think about the Reaping today – the thought buzzes annoyingly at the back of my head. No one can avoid it, but as I was saying to Gem, the chances of being chosen were slim. Her words planted a seed of doubt in me, and it panicked me. I couldn't leave Heath alone, and if he left me, then I wouldn't know how to live anymore.

I finished my food quickly, and ran up to the girls' dorm. Most girls were leaving now, and I was left to myself to change into an old shirt and skirt. Gem wasn't anywhere to be seen, and I was half way to having a panic attack. "Perfect," I mumble to myself, patting down my scruffy hair before dashing down to the Entrance to join the others.

''''''''''

One girl and one boy are chosen at random – though the odds for each child are always different. As each District finished their Reaping, it was one closer to ours. Before I can register it, it was District 12's turn, and the girl next to me grabs my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

I have never talked to this girl before, but I recognise her straight away. It's the little girl that Gem protected this morning, and even took the punishment for. Her face has a soft touch to it, under the scars and lines that creased her face. She should look young, I think to myself, and I squeeze her hand back out of politeness.

After the long speech, it is time for the girl's name to be announced. The stick-like Capitol man stands at the podium, his teeth grinning down at us all. I must have missed his name during the speech – at this time, I usually tune out. It just makes me angrier, hearing about the Capitol and the Rebellion. His name doesn't matter anyway.

His long, sickly fingers plummet into the glass bowl, fishing out a petite envelope. "The female Tribute for District 12," His pause makes the crowd almost drown in anticipation. "Mina Calo!"

Suddenly, I can't breathe. The little girl looks as if she's had a ton lifted from her shoulders and shifted onto mine, and a girl to my left keeps as steady hand on me, ensuring my knees don't give way. I don't need her help though. One thing I promised to my father was to be strong, no matter what. That, and make sure I never let go of what was dearest to me, even if my name had been called from the Reaping ball. I will myself up to the stage, keeping my head held high. I am to do everything in my might to win this. It won't matter who I have to kill; if they're in my way, then so be it.

"Come, my dear, come!" The man calls to me in a friendly tone, yet his smile is far from warm and kind. He looks like he despises the Districts, and I notice that he subtly steps aside to avoid any skin contact between him and I, as I step up on the platform he ushers me onto. Once I'm in place, his spindly hand plunges into the second Reaping ball. "And the male Tribute is…" Finally after a good rummage, the man's hand pulls out another thin strip of paper. "Oh my," his eyes widen, and a small gulp to clear his throat. "Heath Calo!"

I couldn't tell whether the groan was from the audience or me, however that didn't matter. I was on the stage floor in seconds, sobbing for some black hole to suck me into the earth. My brother, the only thing worth living for that I was barely clutching to with my nails, would be forced to fight to the death. I may even have to kill him myself. I see my breakfast for a second time that day, and all over the Capitol man's shiny red shoes. Oh well, I retched again, I did him a favour – the shoes were hideous.

"Stupid girl!" The thing above me hisses, away from the microphone, but nevertheless someone helps me to my feet. It's almost as if they're forcing me to watch my brother come to the slaughter house with me.

Heath looks sick too. A pale sheet would look dirty compared to the bloodless colour of his skin now. We're pale as it is – who wouldn't be, having only been fed on nothing but scraps and slop? – But he looked an unhealthy white. He reaches the podium and the anthem starts to play, but I hear no sound. All I can focus on is Heath's face.

The stick-man walks to the microphone, trying his best not to wince at the sight of his shoes. "Ladies and gentlemen, District 12's Tributes!" He turns to Heath and I in turn, and mutters "Shake hands, then."

Our hands meet half way, gripping hard onto each other's. There's a knowing look in Heath's eyes, and he knows just as well as I do that we're going to lose everything to play a game.


End file.
